It feels like my first day back at work. It isn’t. But it is the restart of routine. The early morning commute leaves me feeling ever so slightly detached from life. I’ve made this journey so many times that it passes like a dream; my movements mechanical and my mind blank. It’s a bit like long distance running or a meeting about paperclips. Often I can’t recall a single moment of the trip.
I always swim through Oxford Circus following the currents of fellow travellers. It’s the connection between two trains from Hell and little imps swing bags and umbrellas at our legs as we struggle through. Today something woke me from my sleep. The trains were as busy as ever and platforms as violent but now I was utterly alone. Not metaphorically (although that’s often the case) but really, absolutely, completely alone. Like a lighthouse keeper, the silence made me start. I stopped. I looked back and forth. The passageway was fifty metres long. It was empty. Not a soul in sight. I wasn’t quick witted enough to worry about wormholes or zones of twilight. I had pushed past a couple of fur coats but hadn’t noticed any wardrobe. For the age of a moment, I paused. Nothing happened. Nothing continued to happen for another moment. I walked on.
The instance I rounded a corner, the throng was there. Crowds of people In front of me. And behind. Hundreds of the buggers. Although I looked, I could see no sign of a snigger, no stifled laughter. There was no Ta-dah! Just another train. Just another manic Monday. With a peculiar eddy of calm.
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